


Lies

by LadyNogs



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Loki is not a nice guy, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, very dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNogs/pseuds/LadyNogs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very dark drabble.  Trigger warning for rape/non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Okay...this is a little snippet that didn't really spark the longer fic that I had semi-planned, but it stands on it's own fairly well.
> 
> This is VERY dark. Trigger warning for rape/non-con and some implied Stockholm Syndrome. I've tagged to the best of my ability.

His smirk was like ice, sliding down her spine. It always meant trouble, always a dark night, a painful morning. He was too broken to ever be capable of what SHIELD called “integration”, but she was loathe to tell them that. They’d only break him further. So she lied, in her reports. She lied and lied, and it made him laugh, sometimes, on the dark nights, like broken glass in his throat.

She hated his laugh. She hated the way it crept under her skin, hated the way her body responded - because she knew what was coming, when he laughed.

The first time, it had hurt. She had struggled, fighting to get away from his hands and his mouth and the long cold length of his body pressing against hers. Even with the restraints, even with his powers trapped and bound, he was still stronger than she was, still trained in hand to hand combat for hundreds of years. It had hurt, and she had wept beneath him, unable to stop herself.

Afterwards, he was quiet, almost calm, the mania that had possessed him drained. She curled on her side and throbbed, and his voice was like silk over gravel.

“Once, your people would have called you lucky, to have been chosen so by a god.” One cold finger, trailing down her spine. “Once, they would have sent their loveliest maidens to tempt and beguile me.” That finger dipped between her legs, slick with her blood and his spend, and he brought it to his lips in a parody of lust. “And now, I have only you, my little captor, to torment and use for my pleasure.”

She lied, then. But mostly to herself.


End file.
